‘Major Ellis has taken four teams and gone after them. He disturbed them before they’d finished. At this point, we’re not sure whether they’re still on site or whether they’ve jumped away. That’s for the major to deal with. What we do know is that they’ve left the tomb open. Wide open. They’ve penetrated the outer door, tunnelled down the steps, breached the inner door and accessed the tomb. I’ve returned to obtain additional manpower. Your task will be to secure both the tomb and the surrounding area against their possible return, to prevent opportunistic looting by any passing locals and to render assistance to the major as required. This tomb must remain intact and ready for Carter’s discovery three thousand years later.’

People nodded. This was no big deal – it happened occasionally. Tutankhamun’s tomb was a known target. Over the years any number of hopeful fortune hunters had bundled themselves into their homemade, radiation-leaking contraptions for the sole purpose of helping themselves to a little treasure. Tomb robbing, however, is nowhere near as easy as most people think. Standard Time Police procedure was to let the miscreants expend an enormous amount of hot, sweaty, sandy effort and then swoop in and pick them up before they could do any real damage to the tomb or its contents.

If they were feeling benevolent, the Time Police would then bring them back to face trial. If not, then they would leave them to take their chances with the Medjay, for whom the answer to pretty much everything was a quick beating to the feet and then impalement upon any large sticks that happened to be handy. Jane shivered. According to the info on her scratchpad, the ancient Egyptian police were to be feared and avoided.

Someone, obviously not happy at missing his beauty sleep, raised a hand and said in exasperation, ‘Why do they do this? They can’t remove anything from its own time. Surely everyone knows this by now. We tell them often enough. Why are some people so shit-thick?’

Grint nodded.

‘Good point. This bunch, however, are using their brains. They’re pulling stuff out of the tomb with the intention of taking it off-site and reburying it at some secret location. They then return to their own time, cross their fingers that their loot will survive, undisturbed, over however many centuries, and then they dig it up again. If it’s not there – because someone else got there first, or it’s been destroyed in a natural disaster – well, it’s just a case of better luck next time, guys, we’ll nip off and have another go somewhere else. And if it is still there, then it’s a case of drinks on me, everyone, because we’re going to be rich.’

‘The St Mary’s method,’ said someone, sourly. ‘Burying treasure to be discovered centuries later.’